Royal Flush
by RenjiLuvah
Summary: As the excitement of the Combat Racing Franchise withers, Rayn barges into the Bloody Hook looking for some amusement. Across the room, a group of men sit, cards in their hands and inviting her to inevitable doom. \\RazerxRayn// Now a TWOshot!
1. Chapter 1 : Royal Flush

**For Luv2Game who is an awesome beta and an awesome friend. I hope it's up to your expectations. Enjoy.**

**I have to admit, I was tempted to bite my screen a few times with all the fun I was having with Razer. And Cutter? Oh, boy, Cutter. You have fallen into the wrong writer's hands…**

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**Royal Flush**

"Precursors. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear the Bloody Hook has resorted to filling their barrels with muskrat stew rather than quality ale days- though there isn't much of a difference…"

Rayn Krew entered the Bloody hook, wearing her brass on her perfectly ironed cuffs and without the suited up tyrants she hired for protection. They'd normally be latched by their shoulder blades to hers at all times of the day with compact beam reflexors strapped to their belts, ready to gyrate on their thick thumbs the moment danger tempted them.

Clicking her heels toward the bar and ready to order a little shot of Wastelander's brew- one of the popular mixtures that all the racers seemed to rave about, the Crime Lord caught sight of a rather rowdy game of cards taking place in a corner table. Judging by the reserved laughter humming from beneath the steady stream of smoke, the center of attention could be none other than the retired racer, Razer.

Now standing with her fingers smudging against the mahogany counter, she realized the lack of service and quickly called for it.

"Who's the bloody bampot that owns this place? What's a woman have to do to wave down a drink these days?"

Noting that there was no response, the Crime Lord pushed on her palms to peek behind the bar, only to find the rather bloated, one eyed, and bald bartender snoozing away against the shelves.

"Caned…"

Frustrated, the woman spun around, leaning on her elbows to observe the scene across the room. The excitement from the Last Grand Prix had worn off, and ever since she'd taken over Kras months ago, without the controversy that the Haven crew originally stirred up in the previous series, the sport had somewhat died down. After reorganizing and gathering her bundle of assets and useful racers, some ex- Mizo goons, the woman presently passed the time with a felt tip pen to mounds of paper as she watched the television with nonchalance.

Rayn Krew was- well, to put it frankly, bored.

There were still the usual accidents out on the tracks -- an explosion here and there, an eco spill around a corner, but nonetheless, it was nothing like a man valuing his pride like a samurai would a sword, with a competitor who was simply driven on an instinct to survive. Two alpha males, burning rubber against hardened roads and callous weather conditions, with an instinct to survive or kill.

That's what was wrong with the sport these days. There was no fire. No animal instinct. No malicious intent.

Compared to the raging, bloodthirsty beasts last season, the racers she was handing paychecks to were practically purring through the events. If she hadn't known any better, she would assume that the right caress over their fenders would make the bloody vehicles lick at her palm for another tickle.

It had gotten to a point that Rayn purposely cut her guards loose, in hopes that some buffoon would try to assassinate her. And even if he wasn't going to snipe her professionally from a one hundred story building, maybe _someone_ would have the audacity to mug her, try to pry her dainty purse from her gold ringed fingers so that she could distort her cheeks with her hands and say, "Oh my, someone has stolen my purse! What is a helpless Crime Lord to do?"

For Mar's sake, if she were lucky, some devious child would at _least_ kick her ankle—_really_ hard, while she was crossing a busy intersection where the pain would prevent her from crossing before the light changed! Then maybe she'd remember what it felt like to have her life on the line and she could pass the feeling to her unmotivated ex-convict employees.

Feeling unmotivated herself, the woman adjusted her dress jacket and approached the table. As expected, the group of men steered their murderous gazes of warning to her as she closed the distance.

_This is good_, Rayn thought wryly, _I might be fortunate enough to feel my adrenaline flicker._

"Hey, this is a man's game, all right? Beat it."

Apparently, this was supposed to ward the woman off. Instead, she looked down to Shiv, the broken eared, tattoo faced man with a sardonic smile about her, crossing her arms as she locked a hip to the right.

"Ah, so I can race with the big boys, but I can't fumble with a bunch of rectangular pieces of paper? How amusing."

"This ain't solitaire or slap-"

"Snap."

"Whatever it is _you_ people play over there-"

"Us _people_?"

"Poker's a hard game, lady. If you're not gambling metal in your pockets, you're gambling your blood."

Her red blotted lips spreading into an arrogant and challenging smile, Rayn unfolded her arms to place a palm on her waist.

"Blimey. Metal in the pockets, ey? Well, let me assure you, I've got plenty of pockets, and metal to go with it, too. After all, I give you your paychecks…"

Clearing his throat from the opposite end of the table, Cutter breathed through the wires of his mouthpiece, "We can just _take_ it from you."

Edje agreed, "Yeah. No game necessary. With the speed of my reflexes, you'll be bare of pockets and maybe some _other_ things before you know it."

"…"

When the Crime Lord paused, the men nodded to each other with satisfaction, already coming to the conclusion that they had successfully scared her off. So when the woman yanked out the extra chair with a rude whine against the floor and plopped into it, they all turned to her with wide eyes- all except Razer who had avoided gazes with her the entire time, busying himself with his hand of cards.

"Oh, codswallop. If you want to whack me, I invite you to try. While I had my nose stuffed into textbooks all my life, I'm not the daughter of Krew for naught. By the time your fingers reach the stitching of my collar, I will have your wrist attached to your elbow-"

That was when Razer must have lost it.

"B-boss? What's so funny?"

Shiv asked nervously, noting how their leader, who had been previously solemn, had suddenly burst into a laughing fit. Giving the table a healthy slap and sliding a cigarette into his mouth, he shook his head as he finally matched gazes with the new Crime Lord of Kras- the one he refused to race for.

"Why, Razer, how lovely of you to join us. With all the silence you've been granting me, even as I shove orbs into your face to set these blokes straight on a weekly basis - I almost thought you'd gone mute. For a while there, I was under the impression that Mizo's death had choked you up into tears and you've been holding a grudge against me ever since."

"Blokes? And what the hell is a cods- cohdswahlope-"

"Shut up, Cutter. Now, you listen here, Krew-"

Before Shiv could punctuate the end of that threat, Razer raised a hand to quiet him.

"Avoid the big words, princess. It hurts them."

"But boss, did you hear what she said-"

"She's right, Shiv. Her slender fingers may rival Edje's in speed. She's the daughter of a weapon's specialist, or have you forgotten?"

The orange haired man just looked to Rayn with a disgruntled expression, crossing his arms and looking away with shame. When the group of men had relaxed their rebellion, Rayn looked to Razer, who was completely different from moments ago. Before, the retired racer was not hesitant in ignoring her existence, but now, he kept his fierce viridian eyes boring into hers, possibly keeping his eye on something that piqued his interest.

"All right, Krew princess, you dare to dance with death?"

Eager for some excitement, she agreed, "Love to."

Razer gestured that she shuffle the cards and get comfortable as he smoked his fix. Shrugging off her jacket, she rotated her shoulders back with a click before scratching at her head.

"Damn, hair. Do you mind?"

"Be my guest. There are no beauty pageants here."

With Razer's consent, the woman reached for the pins tying her pale braid of cobalt into the constrained bun that was giving the Crime Lord a neck ache. Upon unleashing the hair accessories, a long wave of hair spilled down her shoulders as she set the pins to the wooden table with a _ping_.

"Phew. Now all I need is a fluffy pair of slippers and a drink."

Edje scoffed, "Fluffy slippers? What do you think this is? A spa?"

"Cutter," Razer summoned.

"Yes, boss?"

"Get the lady a drink- and no _extra_ seasoning this time."

"Ooh, some of that Wastelander's brew or whatever cobblers that's been tickling everyone's fanny as of late-"

Once again, Rayn's accented diction stopped a very confused Cutter in his tracks.

"Cobblers?"

"Keep it simple, I told you," Razer reminded with a wave of his hand.

"Oh, is that why I never get to hear this impressive language of yours?"

"Of course, my dear. If I _did_ speak it, I might as well consider myself communicating with a herd of yakows."

With a sigh, Rayn clarified, "Oh, all right. Makes me wonder why you decided to get into this business with all that intelligence bottled up beneath that greasy hair-do of yours."

"My, my, is that a compliment, Miss Krew?"

The Crime Lord paused, meeting his suggestive expression with a smirk of her own. When she responded with a grin, the knife wielder finished.

"Well, intelligence or not, combat racing wasn't exactly on the list of extra curricular activities back in school, and I couldn't tear myself away from the sport."

"Ah, yes, we all get coaxed in somehow. All right, now, we ready to deal or what?"

As Cutter placed the mug of golden liquid on the table, Razer examined the drink with a brief sniff before approving and handing it over to the woman across from him.

"How sweet of you to make sure your new boss doesn't get poisoned," she quipped, already enjoying every moment passing between herself and her racers.

For once, there were no boundaries between them. Razer had allowed the walls to fall, giving the woman the chance at some fun and to kick back like she used to do in the good old days. And that was aside from the perk of plucking Razer's patience to see how far she could drive him. This was the most he'd ever spoken since she'd been signing his paychecks.

"Of course. Where would the fun in that be?"

With a roll of their eyes and heavy huffs of their breath, the other three men impatiently motioned for the cards.

With a new deviousness aroused in him, Razer drew a large hand through the blackened tresses over his scalp, leaning his elbows on the table.

"All right, Krew. What are you putting on the line?"

* * *

"Umm, Razer?"

There was no answer.

"Razer," she attempted again with more sternness.

"Hmm?"

"About that bet-"

"Ah, yes, the one where you're going to give me half of the rights in Kras' racing enterprise- that would be the one, correct?"

"Heh, heh. Yes. That one," she fluttered with a nervous laugh.

"Hmm, hmm. What is it, Krew? Getting cold feet? It's out of five rounds remember? This is only the third."

Yes. She knew that. Despite what the seemingly sober, and gruff faced man must have assumed, she was _well aware_ what round they were up to. She was definitely counting because she was already counting the rounds that the hands traveled along the clock. She was also counting the gradually irritating taps Shiv was making against the table in an effort not to loose his top, the snorts Edje was making as he fought his sleep and the times Cutter had a questionable glint in his eye aimed towards her collar. Strange, that one was…

This was the third round. It was three out of five. If the man across from her won this one, it was all over. It was as over as the Baron arc in Haven city. If she lost this hand, she could kiss any profit she'd made goodbye. Although of course, in actuality, it was really _his_ to begin with.

Originally, Mizo _did_ have half of these rights contracted to be handed over to Razer should he be unable to perform his duties or should he suffer an accident or face untimely death. However, because of the matter of _how_ he died, a case in which only Rayn and Jak's crew knew about, Mizo's body was disintegrated to nothing but soot that must have blown into the ocean, for there were no traces of the Crime Lord once the authorities arrived.

No body. No confirmation of death. No rights. And since having an underground dynasty of crime didn't exactly qualify for being able to take the issue of Blitz's will to the court of law, Razer had no choice but to accept his unfortunate fluke of bad luck and relinquish his right to profit – profit in which Rayn now owned.

_Distract him. I need to distract him!_

Suddenly, Rayn placed her cards onto her lap, giving her free hands a chance to stretch upward. As she arched her back toward the table, yawning in a deeply exaggerated tone, the woman caught the flinch of Razer's eye, as her business attire lifted momentarily to reveal the bronzed cream of her waist.

_Yes! I got him!_

But then he- laughed?

Rayn arched a brow.

_All right! Let's try something else._

"Cutter!"

The masked man almost hopped from his chair.

"Wha- what?"

"Would you be a darling, wood face and fetch me another drink?"

"…"

"Please?"

"…"

Rayn sighed and was about to revise her plan before Razer snapped his fingers.

Cutter reacted like a trained circus animal and practically catapulted to the bar with her glass.

"Blimey, I wish some of my servants worked that fast," Rayn thought. Nesting her chin into her knuckles, she leaned forward, hoping to give Razer more of a distraction as the buttons of her loose collar snapped almost to the man's very stare. This was it. Hopefully the mild peek of lavender lace should do it-

Razer scoffed again, returning his gaze to his cards.

Now becoming very annoyed, as well as perplexed, Rayn huffed back into her seat. Bringing her cards back to her eyes, she studied her hand before reaching out for a new card. She mumbled something unintentionally, and it seemed like this was enough to snap the racer's attention to her.

"Hmm?"

"What? I didn't say anything?"

"Are you sure?"

Razer rested his head back against the cushion of the seat behind him, nonchalantly awaiting her answer. By the relaxed posture he maintained in the chair as he practically melted into it compared to the way her body rigidly cramped into her seat, it was apparent that Razer found her as a source of amusement.

_Mocking me, are we? We'll see about that._

"Oh, well, I was just thinking to myself…"

"Yes?"

"About those rumors I hear around some of your lady fans. I was just thinking that it might actually be true."

"Rumors, hmm? And what would these _rumors_ entail, exactly?"

"Oh, well, it's nothing really. Nothing that a famed and handsome man like yourself should really care for – It's just commoner's rambling," Rayn swatted away the subject purposely, pulling Razer's interest ever deeper.

Sitting up from his previously relaxed position, the woman had finally reeled his attention. "Humor me, Krew princess. If it's something I haven't heard yet, I might actually return ten percent of the profit I win."

Cutter returned with her drink and Rayn took the time to take a sip. A nice, long, more than necessary sip as the racer was impatiently sitting across from her. Satisfied, the Crime Lord decided not to test his patience too much and gave in.

"Well, there are things that I hear in the ladies room during your races and there's been some _speculation_-"

Her voice lowered to a whisper. Cutter sat with crossed arms, giving her that odd look again. Edje had long passed out and Shiv was helping himself to his own drink. So far, he was doing a _fabulous_ job of not ranting and raving at her for any little thing.

"I hear you turn a lot of women down, Razer. And it seems that it's making your precious fans think that you're somewhat of a- well, you know-"

"What?"

This time, Razer's voice had transformed. Rather than a question, it was more like he was expecting what her response was, but was curious to see if she had the audacity to voice it. As his grin widened, Rayn spit it out.

"Ahem, a backtickl-"

"SHIV! You okay, man?"

Edje had a crude awakening when the redheaded man beside him spit out the very beer that rounded his cheeks. Choking and coughing, Edje aided the fellow criminal with a heavy pat to his back.

"What the hell is a backtick-"

Cutter was about to ask before Shiv caught his breath.

"I should cut your tongue right out of your-"

"Silence," Razer commanded and the table was at a hush once again.

Frustrated, Cutter looked to Shiv for answers - lost as a Spargus citizen in the middle of the Northern Ice lands.

Rayn released a purr, studying the very changes in her rival's face as he toyed with a fresh cigarette between his fingers.

"You amuse me, Rayn, to the point that I find you worthy of calling you by your name, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Razer."

"Now, as for the issue at hand, I do feel slightly inclined to prove that rumor wrong to you. After all, the fans do not faze me, but I cannot have my boss thinking otherwise because she holds the key to the city. Wouldn't want you to be a sore loser after I win my profits and have you seeking revenge by spreading this foulness."

"Why, Razer. I would do no such thing."

Shiv was beginning to pick up on something that wasn't previously in the atmosphere two hours ago and hid a curled lip of disgust behind his palm. Clearing his throat, the racer deemed it necessary to move past Rayn's distraction, one that surprisingly worked well only for a flicker's worth of time, but wasn't enough to erase his objective from mind.

Spreading out his cards, he announced, "Full house."

"Damn it," the three other men groaned and breathed curses as they dug into their pockets and threw orbs onto the table. The woman had yet to reveal her hand.

"What has luck granted you, Krew princess?"

With new hope rising in her, the woman slammed her cards onto the wood after the realization hit her.

"Four of a kind! I win this one!"

Lighting a new cigarette, he lent the Crime Lord a nod of acknowledgement.

"Hmm, luck pitied you. Let's see how long that lasts."

Now with more determination about her, Rayn offered to shuffle the cards, brushing a fingertip against his as she gathered them.

"Pity, is it? Perhaps, luck just favors the one in power."

Instead of countering that comment, Razer exhaled a stream of smoke, while an eye of his gave way to a subtle wink…

* * *

"All right, Rayn. The night is old, the beer is leaving a bad aftertaste and the boys have already given up. If we don't clear this round, I may be prone to shoving this cigarette into Edje's neck the next time he snorts like a whiny Ottsel with the bad case of the flu."

"Honestly, Razer, I don't understand how you deal. This- this seems like _loads_ of fun, really, but do you do this _everyday _with them?"

"My, my, Rayn Krew. Are you suggesting that because I am retired, that I have nothing better to do than to grace this disastrous excuse for a bar with my presence on a daily basis?"

"I don't know Razer. There's plenty mystery beneath that trench coat of yours-"

Razer scratched at the loose strands of ebony falling over his eyes. Giving his hand of cards a squint, he motioned to exchange for a new card. The man seemed oblivious to her slip of words. Fighting back a flush in her cheeks, Rayn returned her gaze to her cards as well.

It was silent for a minute or two, only the clock chiming between the flapping of cards being swapped over the mahogany. Edje, and Shiv had long surrendered to sleep and Cutter's head lolled occasionally as he was being tempted by it. Shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair, the woman huffed, ignoring the rumble in the pit of her stomach aside from the perspiring man across from her who was beginning to look oddly attractive at this hour.

Must have been the Wastelander's Brew…

When there was a sound of rustling fabric, the woman chanced a look up to catch the racer shrugging of his coat, revealing the tight, short sleeved shirt that stretched over the canvas of distinctly toned shoulders. He was too busy contemplating his cards to notice the widening of her eyes. Black ink trailed down his arms, a feature she had always assumed was there, after all, tattoos were usually a trademark of the industry, but she rarely laid eyes on such a thing- at least not on _him_. The dark ink was a superb contrast between his pale skin and the white of his shirt, now threatening to be transparent with it's cotton material giving way to his perspiration to reveal the subtle sign of ink crossing over his collarbone and downward-

Rayn quickly looked away.

Upon hearing the Crime Lord clear her throat uncomfortably, Razer asked, still not meeting her eyes, "Something wrong? I hope the pressure isn't getting to you. After all, the price of forfeiting the game is a lot steeper than just losing."

Not paying heed to his mildly serious threat, Rayn was growing hot, fidgeting with the mess of hair down her back and wrestling it back over her head to give her neck some sort of draft. That was a mistake. The door to the Bloody Hook had been opened, courtesy of Cutter about an hour before, and the breeze pulled at the goose pimples rising from her flesh.

Now she was just uncomfortable- between the heat sticking her button down shirt to her spine and the breeze bullying her arms and legs that escaped beneath the warm of the table. Rayn reminded herself to wear slacks the next time she decided to have a night on the town, and if she was inviting danger, a skirt was probably not such a wise choice.

"Razer."

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider the prize? I _have_ won the past two times."

"True. However, since I won the two before that, it is safe to say we both have a fifty fifty chance in this round. What have I got to lose? So, I have to race for you. You never said for how long and under what circumstances."

"Why, you-"

Seeing that she was only feeding his smirk, she quipped, "Well, in that case, I never explained what half of the profits entailed. The racing industry is a complex one. I can just reward you with half of the money that I can make back easily, but you will not have any control over the actual sport."

Razer found it necessary to lay his most prized knife out along the table, feigning that he had done so out of a random desire to polish it with his handkerchief. Rayn was unfazed by the suggestive motion.

"Hmm, hmm. You are very slick. I'm beginning to willingly accept that you might have been creditable to the defeat of my late boss, Mizo."

"So, shall we discuss, then? The rewards in detail?"

Razer gestured that she start, an opportunity for Rayn to revise her foolishly bold challenges that could possibly destroy her if Razer was victorious in this round.

"Hmm, well, first let's see, what do I want? I feel like making you race will surely up the ratings of the sport again, but there's not much fun in that for me, personally."

Rayn tilted her head in contemplation but was distracted from thought as she found Cutter aiming _that_ look at her again.

"You! Stop that!"

"W-what?"

"Whatever it is you're doing- stop it."

Cutter was about to defend himself until Razer interrupted.

"Ah, Rayn, I have something that may interest you."

"Hmm?"

"You like mysteries, yes? Want to know all these secrets about the racers you employ?"

"Sounds interesting. Go on."

Just then, Razer turned to Cutter.

"Take it off."

"What?"

"The mask. Show her."

For the first time since she'd met the bloodthirsty man, Cutter hesitated at Razer's command.

"What- I-"

"Why? What's beneath his mask?"

Rayn was growing excited, clapping like a child at the fair and waiting for the clown to make an animal balloon.

"Cutter."

There was a moment of silence before the other racer had no choice but to comply.

"If you tell anyone, I will kill you myself, Krew," Cutter spat as he reached for the straps beneath his chin.

She had to say, this was similar to those scenes in the movies, where the masked hero or the masked burglar finally revealed himself at the climax of the story. Rayn felt her heart thump against her ribs, looking with anticipation. Of course, she had always assumed that the reason Cutter had worn such a contraption was because there was something hideous and vile beneath it- something that told tales of countless murders and crimes that not even Kras' toughest Crime Kings could stomach. Not much was known about his past, except that he appeared one day, slamming an application to one of Mizo's henchmen, demanding that he race. There were even rumors about bloody fingerprints on the pile of papers once it reached Mizo's very hands, and to Mizo, such a thing was a plus. This climbed him up a barrage of other applicants quickly and Cutter became one of Mizo's main racers.

When the wood came over the jaw of the racer in question, Rayn almost fell backwards.

"Oh my-"

Razer laughed - another one of those uncommon laughs that he did out loud.

"Cutter-"

A momentary look of pity washed over her as she almost reached out to the man before he turned away in shame.

"You're- you're-"

"Don't you _dare_ say it-"

"You're one of the most _adorable_ men I have ever seen! Why, if I wasn't myself right now, I may be tempted to squeeze a cheek! Precursors! How the hell did you manage to get by in the underground with such a Mar forsaken face that will make children run to you?"

"Shut the hell up!"

"All right, all right. That's enough."

Razer granted Cutter the permission to hide away again and the man uttered a word of gratitude. Not being able to wipe off the smile from her face, she snapped her attention back to Razer, who had usurped a place in being an entertainer.

"What else? What else?"

"Ah, I can't reveal everything about your drivers just yet, or else you will have nothing to look forward to."

"All, right. I want to make a deal."

Razer nodded.

"It's no secret that Combat Racing has grown stale lately and the profits are beginning to wilt."

"Mmm hmm?"

As the man hummed, Rayn felt the brush of his leg come in contact with hers as he shifted positions in his seat. The woman instantly drew back, giving the criminal a look of warning.

"The chair is sticking to my skin and your legs were in my way."

Rayn chose not to respond to that, and continued, "I need you to race for me, to bring up ticket sales, television ratings, and bring back the overall excitement to the sport while still maintaining room for new drivers to come in and claim fame. You, don't want to race for me and I know no matter how many times I win this bloody game, if you say no, you could easily take it upon yourself with an attempt on my life rather than giving me my fair share of our bargain."

"You're a wise woman, Krew. You're right. I can just kill you if I don't like your side of the bargain and believe me, your team of guards will not stand a chance."

"Yes, yes, lovely. Moving on. So, how about, if I win and you agree to race for me on occasions like special events, and lend me a hand at finding new talent by testing their guts on the tracks, I will reward you with half of the profits earned from every race and allow you to race in whatever vehicle you like, whatever stipulations you desire for the event, you name it. And we will write this in contract."

"Why, Rayn, that sounds like you are trying to make an offer so appealing, that I will lose my desire to win this game of ours. Is this your indirect way of surrendering and begging for mercy, my dear?"

"Take it or leave it. And of course, any dibs on the racers like these mysteries you're speaking of, those are included."

"You're asking for quite much."

"I'm a hard woman to please."

"What if I say no?"

"Well… Well, I guess I have to think of something else."

Razer smiled again, pearly white teeth flaring between his thin lips as he rotated cards between his thick fingers. Looking to her hands, he asked, "Lay out your cards within the next few change of cards, Krew – five minutes max. If I win, I will decide what I want afterwards-"

"That's not fair-"

"Life isn't fair. Don't forget what kind of world you're working in."

"…"

Rayn didn't like this. This wasn't what she was aiming for. She was trying to get him to ease up on her, but it seemed like all she did was throw all these rewards for him to reap in the open and nothing for her to grab in return. Who _knew_ what he was thinking of?

It was her decision to discuss the prizes and because of that, if the man won, he could possibly choose to take whatever he wanted from her. And while she would hardly admit it, Razer was right when he spoke of his advantage to killing her. If something wasn't to his liking, he simply was rid of it. She lacked that advantage. While she could hire all the muscled goons that all the orbs and bars of gold could pay for, Razer had an entire league of men who were faithful to him, and knew the city like the veins on the very hands they used to clench their steering wheels. If she didn't like his choice of reward, there was no "simply getting rid of him." The man would not stop until either his conditions were met, or she was found floating by the ports one sunny Sunday morning by the fishermen.

Not having much of a choice and her hope being drowned by Razer's approach to her bargain, Rayn huffed, taking a chance to exchange a card or two before laying out her hand.

They were in complete silence again. The cards going back and forth, Rayn yawning, fighting her hunger because it had been hours and watching the clock count down to her unavoidable doom. She slipped her shoes off, giving her toes room to flex as she focused on her cards in hopes that Razer wouldn't loose his top and demand that she just throw down whatever she had.

Bloody Jack, and by Jack, she didn't mean the racer that was previously on her team, but the darn Jack in her deck. She had a lot of high-ranking cards, but couldn't find just the right one to create a flush. The Crime Lord was stuck between the decision of ridding herself from the high-ranking cards, in hopes to use the normally numbered ones to create the sequence she wanted. Unfortunately, she knew as the time wore on, so were her turns at picking cards and soon enough, Razer would demand that the game end. Lacking the chance at picking more cards and running the risk that they would all be the wrong card, Rayn decided to stick with her Jack card and try to find one that would make what she already had work. So far, it was no-

"Good!"

"Hmm?"

"I got it! Here! You can't beat this!"

Rayn proudly spread her hand of cards onto the table, revealing a Jack, a Ten, a Nine, an Eight and a Seven of the same suite.

"Straight Flush!"

Crossing her arms, the woman boasted, settling into her seat as if the world was in her hands. She was about to word her wins if it weren't for the specific way the racer's mouth turned up as he observed her cards.

"Haste makes waste."

"Wh- what do you mean?"

Razer revealed his hand.

"Royal Flush."

"Wha- there's no way!"

"I win!"

"Impossible!"

"I win impossible races. Poker is a child's game."

"But, there's- it can't-"

Before her protesting turned into further gibberish, the defeated Crime Lord slumped into her chair, feeling her head whir and a sudden nausea overwhelm her.

It was over! Her entire blood life was over! She was sure of it! Razer would have her head!

She'd stumbled into the wrong place and the wrong hour, and she was such a fool to throw herself into something such as this. It was a mistake. Bored or not, she really should have listened to her better sense and went home- went home to look over papers and go to sleep!

Her mouth hanging open, the Krew Heiress was lost for words, ready to search out a noose in which to adjust to her neck. She didn't know what he would take, but whatever it would be, she was sure it would no doubt ruin her…

"Now, about my recompense…"

Rayn was too shocked and depressed to care. She looked up, dazed and confused, wishing she could just fall asleep on the table right there, and maybe the racer would have pity and leave her alone.

Pity. Who was she kidding? The damn man would run over a fluffy kitten if it were in his way while he was racing for the Grand Prix trophy. What was to stop him at this? Nothing. Nothing at all.

Razer stood up, swinging his coat over his shoulder as he propped a cigarette behind his ear. His jaw was rough with stubble, and his hair free from its hairspray and battling it out with his tired eyes. Cracking his shoulders, he looked to his sleeping henchmen nonchalantly, who were sleeping like logs, and finally rested his gaze on his current boss.

Rayn felt her heart stop.

"Let's go."

This took a moment to register.

"Wh-what? Where are we going?"

"The sun's about to be up in two hours and I want to eat something quick. I'd like to arrive home while it's still dark because I hate the sun in my eyes when I sleep."

Perplexed, Rayn Krew narrowed her amber eyes at him, seeking clarification.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

Growing irritated, Razer launched forward and within seconds she found herself backed into her chair, the racer leaning across the table and his face inches from hers.

"Are you hungry, woman? Please don't tell me that you are spoon fed by your servants because I think I will vomit-"

"No! Of course not and yes, I'm hungry," she yelled, out of reaction and not caring that she was screaming in death's face.

"Well, then get up. We're going to eat."

"But why? What about the game?"

"We will discuss it over food. I can't think with nothing but alcohol and acid welling in the pit of my stomach and because you were _so_ entertaining tonight, I am willing to treat you to this meal before you grant me my winnings."

"Last meal, is it?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Of course not. Fool."

Another slip of words that she harshly threw at Razer, and the blade of his knife hadn't found its way to her throat. Perhaps, she was growing on him.

Gathering her belongings, Rayn was just was eager to feel the wind on her face and get to her silk sheeted bed before dawn. When she slipped on her shoes and clicked beside him as they moved towards the exit, she asked, "Where should we go at this hour?"

The man led her to his vehicle, opening the door and gesturing that she enter. As the door slammed, Rayn caught the grin on the racer's face- one that she was beginning to associate as an attractive one.

"This is Kras. The city never sleeps."

"I see. Then I look forward to these _spots_ in the city that I have not found yet."

"Why, you should be honored to have none other than the _great_ Razer to be your guide- but don't get used to it," he reminded, switching back and forth between his intimidating exterior and the side to him that made Rayn want to spend more time with the man.

She had to admit, while she came barging into the Bloody Hook hours ago, figuring that the most adventure she'd receive was the slight high from the Wastelander's Brew, Rayn was rewarded with the most entertaining night she'd had in years. In the end, although she had crossed paths with death a few times, she received the adrenaline she was looking for as well as something else.

With a suggestive smile blooming over her, she locked eyes with Razer as he began to drive.

"I won't…"

And he returned the grin.

* * *

**I wrote this when I was very tired. Point out any major misspellings, please.**

Okay. Some notes. This strange last name that this site has attached to Razer on the pull down tab when you look for fanfiction, is not Razer's correct, Naughty Dog created, last name. **Razer does not have a last name**, or rather, it's up to fans to speculate. I like to make that clear because sometimes this site throws names all over the place and it confuses fans that begin to think these things are canon. Like Mar, is not Jak's last name. It is a first name. Matter of fact, I don't believe many of the characters in the Jak series have last names.

**Now for some British vocabulary:**

Blimey – wow

Codswallop or Cobblers – nonsense

Backtickler – homosexual

Caned – drunk

Blokes – guys

Snap – some British card game apparently

Bampot - idiot

I'd also like to make it clear that Razer's presumed accent by popular fan speculation is German. This accent, or any sign of feminism in a man, or what is considered feminism by Western standards, should not have fans come to firm conclusions about the character's sexual preference. Of course, for fun, writers can write as they choose, and I welcome lots of Razer love since Razer is an often under-appreciated character. I just like to make clear what is confirmed information and what is not. Razer and Rayn as a pairing is not a confirmed, supported, and canon pair by Naughty Dog.

OMG, I've never played poker in my life! So, I did some research and if there's a mistake, please share it with me.


	2. Chapter 2 : Nutella

**SURPRISE! Now this is a two-shot.**

**A request to continue a chapter after Royal Flush just for Blackfire18 who wrote me that masterpiece of a fanfiction- Eight Cylinders Firing. If you haven't read that yet, I don't know what you're waiting for. And this is also an extended gift for Luv2Game since she's the one that I wrote Royal Flush for to begin with. **

**Ah, everyone is happy. Have fun, Razer fangirls!**

**

* * *

  
**

**Nutella**

It had been fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes since she had been cajoled into a ride with the enemy, or rather, the victor of a seemingly harmless game of cards that had unfortunately tangled their strings of fate to one another.

Now seated inside the leather of a devilishly sleek and black Luxord, Razer's personal vehicle when he was not driving his Havoc and made for a pair, the Crime Lord had been busying her panicked thoughts with the smudge of the neon signs and the chatter of night folk. The sound of classical music was drowned out by the gusts of wind scratching at her face, and Rayn Krew was doing almost everything possible to steer from her driver's gaze – as well as stay awake.

When the woman yawned, Razer must have tired from the silence. Swanking his boredom, he quipped, "Memorizing the street signs in case you have a dire need to run for your life, Miss Krew?"

Still closing her lips from her exhausted gesture, she shot the man a questionable brow. She would have countered if it hadn't been for the warmth of the seat settling into her sore shoulder blades just right, making the urge to curl her head against the seat belt strapped over her bosom unbearable. And if she were in the vehicle with any other man, she would have willingly slipped into sleep.

But she wasn't in the car with _just_ any other man. She was in the car with Razer, famed Combat Racer whose biggest accomplishments in life involved his accuracy with a blade while his fingers were still slippery with a substance she'd rather not think about being in her current predicament, and a body count both _on_ and _off_ the tracks.

Yeah. Not the most gullible person to nuzzle her head against…not that she wanted to or anything.

Seeing that she chose not to answer, Razer cleared his throat and pursued haughtily.

"If I had known killing you was as easy as boring you to death, I would have invited you to breakfast _long_ ago. Mizo would have been _shocked_ at how easy the task would have been."

"I'm _not_ bored," she finally answered, "Just a bit tired, that is all."

"There is no law that keeps you from resting your eyes."

The way he smirked as he looked upon the road brought a hiss between her dry lips. The way he spoke to her so condescending, she was beginning to feel like she'd arrived from the country side and Razer was sharing a bit of common sense she was too dim to realize.

"Yes. I know that. I'd prefer to keep awake, thank you very much."

_Because I want to live…_

The man paused, taking a moment to switch the station as he waited for the light.

With the new change of music, Rayn quirked another brow, watching as his thick fingers retracted from the radio.

"Is this- _rock_?"

_Oh, great, Rayn. Let's continue convincing the killer that you are a mindless twit by stating the obvious._

_Oh, well. Too late to take it back._

"Is there something wrong? You have _heard_ of rock music, have you? Or is your entire collection made up of violins and pianos-"

"Yes, I have!" she interrupted before he had the chance to bruise her intelligence any further. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

Razer gave a nod as they drove onward. Grinding her eyes with a knuckle, Rayn reached into her purse for some chap stick, applying the moisturizer to her lips carefully even with the vibration of the street underneath her. As she capped the stick with a snap, she settled back into her seat, her eyes lazily falling on the man beside her.

He was still bare of his jacket. His perspiration cooled by the wind, his hair tousled messily as he drove, the fanning of diorite imitating that of a Western model posing for a dramatic and expensive cologne ad with a beach breeze blowing full throttle. The tribal ink clawing along his biceps from his sleeves became more pronounced at the turn of a corner whenever he clung to the steering wheel and relaxed whenever he stopped at a light. There was an occasional suckling of his bottom lip, most likely when he was in deep meditation about something, Rayn surmised, and when released, it left a sliver of shine across his thin mouth.

Combined with the linger of what could only be described as an odor of spice and raw testosterone beneath her nose, the woman found her mouth dry, eager for some satisfaction as she intuitively gave her own lips a nibble.

Catching the sense that her head was beginning to loll in his direction, Rayn tore herself away from the appetizing man before her. Eyes snapped ahead, she could make out the kaleidoscope of light flickering against his pale fingers gripping to the left of her peripheral vision.

_Bloody hell, if I don't get a cup of Joe in my system within the next five minutes, I'm done for!_

Rayn was fighting her sleep, and as much as she would have _loved_ to head home, she was being held captive here.

It was torturous. There were no chains. No weapons. Instead, she was being held here by nothing but her word and it was turning out to be an unpleasant experience.

Why did she have to be bored enough to cause trouble for herself? Why?

And why was this man yanking her chain, dragging her all over Kras while she screamed in her mind? What the blooming _hell_ did he want from her? He won the cursed game of cards! Couldn't he just say what he wanted and be over with it?

Fighting the heat in her cheeks, whether it was from rising anger or from embarrassment due to her newly developing attraction to him - in which she partially placed the blame on the Wastelander's Brew and the time of night - Rayn almost catapulted straight into the headlights above them when she felt heavy calloused skin rest over her knuckles.

"That Wastelander's Brew didn't prove too much, did it?" Razer teased, his body leaning closer and the smell of that testosterone she was admiring moments ago strong as ever. Rayn held her breath, squeezing her knee and causing Razer's fingers to automatically shape his just the same over her hand.

The Crime Lord cleared her throat uncomfortably.

_Calm down, Rayn. He's just a man. He's not going to harm you on public streets- Wait, didn't I want danger earlier? _

_Anyway, sure Razer has a hit record, but he has to have some honor in him. Surely he wouldn't…_

She felt his fingers tighten over hers- willing her not to move as he inched his face closer. At the prickle of his breath over the stem of her neck, the woman felt her senses ready to explode in panic.

_By the power of Mar, he's going to-_

"Good. Your eyes don't look red."

_What?_

"What?"

"Look alive. We have company…"

He unclamped her hand quickly, discarding her the moment he retrieved whatever information he needed. Presumably to make sure she wasn't visibly caned.

_What? Company? Where?_

Rayn bopped her head in every which direction similar to that of a farm hen sticking it's neck out. At the reflection of red and blue rearing from behind the Luxord, Rayn exhaled in complaint.

"Oh. Smashing. The fuzz. Probably your own fault for fancying a weapon with a noice set of skins. A Halford's Catalogue would snap the attention from filth _anywhere_, even _in _Kras where it's _renowned_ for Combat Racing."

Razer hushed her before she rambled on.

"I'd say we make like shepherds, you savvy?"

"Stop _speaking_ like that," Razer replied coolly between chewed lips. "At this rate, the only attention we're going to receive will be because of _your_ intoxication."

"I am _not_ intoxicated."

"Well then, shut your trap. It's nothing. Probably procedures. Remember, _I _still run this city."

Cringing at his arrogance, she remarked, "_You_ run it, huh? My, what news that is to me. I must have missed that memo."

Granting her one last smile before the officer approached the side of the car, the racer countered, "I apologize. It seems the news reporter is not as good as the one prior to him, hmm, hmm."

Before Rayn could lash out on him for the _mere_ mention of Mizo in her presence, the woman had to force a smile. A blue suited man had settled against the side door. By the looks of him, he might have been a newbie. Who else would have the nerve (and a death wish) to pull the great Razer over at a red light?

Besides, as difficult as it was to believe, Razer hadn't actually done anything wrong- well, not yet anyway.

Casually slipping a cigarette behind his ear, Razer arched a brow at the officer's knee threatening to dent into his side door. Upon matching gazes with the killer, the officer was sensible enough to perceive the murderous intention from the racer and released his leg from the vehicle.

With that, Razer gave way to a sigh.

"Glorious night, isn't it, Officer? I would hate for it to go wrong…"

The amber in Rayn's eyes must have glowed because when she widened them, Razer passed her a covert wink.

The officer was preoccupied with his notepad, safe from Razer's taunts.

"O-of course not. And a glorious night it is…"

The uniformed man looked up at the light, before taking note of Razer's license plate.

"Ah, by the description of this vehicle, and your profile, you must be Razer-"

Sensing that the racer was about to fly off the handle, Rayn rashly looped her arm through Razer's in an attempt to draw the officer's attention away. She felt the man's body tense, but not with disagreement.

Was it shock?

Upon looking at his expression though, the racer appeared quite comfortable. Resisting the urge to curl her lip, as well as the urge to enjoy his solid arm in her own, (curse that ale from earlier!) Rayn grinned like an innocent and beaming schoolgirl.

"Officer, hello. I am Rayn Krew. I trust you've heard of me. Listen, as much as we'd _love_ to chit chat, we're sort of on our way _somewhere_," the woman emphasized the ending of that statement with the exaggerated squeeze of Razer's arm.

She was surprised that the convict did not pull one of those laughing fits from earlier. Instead, he kept composed, fiddling with the cigarette behind his ear as he watched the scene unfold before him. He was most likely amused. Rayn was not surprised. _Everything_ amused Razer.

_I'll show you who runs this town!_

Feeling an air of superiority bubble inside her, Rayn flipped her loose strands of hair over her shoulder, prepared to throw Razer's earlier claim back and make him eat it.

The officer finally looked up from his notepad, settling his narrowed eyes on the passenger.

"Ah, yes, Rayn Krew…"

* * *

"Would you like to see our wine list, Madam?"

"No, thanks. Coffee is fine, please. Hopefully I'll find myself waking up in my bed soon and realizing this entire nightmarish situation never _actually_ happened. Matter of fact, I would be thunderstruck if it were so."

The tall, stiff man only blinked at her several times, the twitch of his curled mustache in tune with his eyes. When the waiter didn't seem to respond to her, the woman was about to question his hearing until Razer spoke.

"_Ristretto_ for me. _Cappuccino_ for the lady and _nutella_. Two."

Apparently, Rayn must have been speaking some foreign language for at the racer's choice of words, the man slapped his menu back into his apron and whisked away.

"What in the-"

"Mind the kind of restaurant we're in. In here, coffee could mean a million and one things."

"And _nutella_?"

"They don't serve heavy breakfasts here."

"Ah. Lovely. Glad I wasn't _brutally_ famished"

"So am I. A pastry should suffice."

"Why thank you for making the decision for me. After all, I control half of Kras' stock exchange, but ordering my own food? That would have proved too difficult."

"Of course. Your servants feed you, remember?"

"What-"

As a satisfied grin spread across the man's face, Rayn restrained herself from flinging off her chair. Too cranky to care anymore, Rayn swatted the subject away before it could even start. She was in one of those moods where she'd scribble the entire staff's names on her hit list for cooking her eggs over easy rather than sunny side up.

Oh wait, damn her short term memory because she wasn't going to have eggs. She was going to have _nutella_!

Pouting, Rayn sunk her chin into her palm, her eyes darting everywhere but the person in front of her. She could just _sense_ the conceit radiating from the man without even having to look.

"Oh, don't be so sour. It'll ruin your appetite… Or _mine._"

"Good. Then we can get on with this whole business and get to the point. The suspense is killing me."

"Not a wise choice of words."

When she finally focused her gaze on him, she faced his playful smirk. Beginning to feel increasingly irritated by the minute, she rolled her eyes and digressed. Razer was not going to allow that.

"Moreover, that puckered look doesn't suit you."

Not giving him the pleasure of forcing her to turn back to him, Rayn mumbled, "I don't fancy a little butter and sugaring for purposes of satiating your sadistic humor."

Unfazed, the criminal scoffed, "Oh, come on, now. Acting a tad envious, are we?"

"Envious? Please, Razer. So the officer was a fan boy and asked for your chicken scratch. Cheers to you-"

"Says the woman whose name is not even in the system."

"So?"

"Kras has no record of felonies under your name. Therefore you do not retain a reputation but you are deifying yourself as a Crime Lord. Don't you find that ironic?"

"Not at all. And I am a Crime Lord. I own this city and _you_."

That was when he revealed his fangs.

"Not for long. Possibly. Depends on how I feel."

"Hmmph…"

Rayn stubbornly locked her arms, crossing her legs in unison.

_An autograph. Out of all the blimey things he could have said- Are you driving under the influence? Are you Razer, the man suspected of murdering this anonymous man recently? Did you buy this vehicle legally? _

_Nooo. None of that. The dolt puts down his trusted pad of paper, and what does he do? Doesn't even spare me another look of acknowledgement before jumping to ask for Razer's autograph?_ _Really._

That went to show how unprofessional law enforcement was in this city- then again, it _had_ to be in order for business to run in the Underground smoothly…

On the bright side, the chippie was a rather impressive one. Hidden as it was, it was a nice find, courtesy of someone she'd rather not credit at this point in time.

It was tucked away from the main avenues and the stairs winding downward were misleading to people who weren't aware of the destination. Upon arrival though, Rayn found herself walking against terracotta tiles. The woman was in awe of the hand painted frescos and the round arches that paved the way to aisles of private booths. With the soft tasteful music drifting side by side with the mild scent of basil, the atmosphere instantly coaxed a rumble within the pit of her stomach. Unfortunately with the time of day, Rayn was not in the mood to sample any large entrees, and instead, accepted a typical breakfast of this culture. Unlike its imitations, it seemed this place stuck to its roots by the simple breakfast on the menu.

Patting her lips with a yawn, the waiter returned and slid their cups of _expresso _in front of them.

"May I have more milk in mine?"

The waitress hurried off, probably fleeing on purpose before Rayn could command anything further.

"Anymore milk and you can consider it a chocolate shake. Besides, you look like you could use the strong taste."

Several shots of Wastelander's Brew instantly flashed through her memory again, causing gravel to rise in her throat.

"I think I've had my share of strong drinks, thank you very much."

_And maybe I would have wanted a damn chocolate shake! Or do they even serve that here?_

"Hmm," the racer hummed casually, lifting a small spoon to stir the dark liquid steaming from his porcelain mug.

"Blinking clot, I swear if he doesn't bring me milk-"

Rayn curbed her words. She was letting her mood get the best of her and in a predicament like the one she was currently in, keeping her head cool was priority.

The cards were laid on the table. Less than an hour ago, it was a Royal Flush that had signed her contract with the devil. A Royal Flush! It was the kind of thing Jak's luck must have been made out of! Making the impossible possible!

At first, she tried to convince herself that perhaps the racer cheated, but despite Razer's past records of violence, he was a stubborn man with specific tastes. Cheating was not on that list- reason why those explosives rigged into Jak's vehicle were not his handy work.

Razer did not like to dirty his hands but if he had to, he would do so personally and execute it with unrivaled perfection. He was quite an asset as her employee, whether he actually raced for her or not. There was something he brought into the garage just by standing in a corner hidden behind a heap of nicotine smoke that got all the drivers working the sweat off their brows as they polished their vehicles.

The man's presence kept them in check and while she didn't think any of them had the yakow's balls to rebel against her since she was their best source of income at the moment, at least Razer kept the men swarming like flies to a lamp. The other racers were not as restless with the former star on the grounds. At the very least, he was a face they were always pleased to see. Made them work all that much harder since they were under a constant pressure of living up to his legacy.

She remembered what it was like that first week she had officially taken over. The mass of criminals rolled into her garage with mud on their boots and grizzly stares. They signed their contracts out of pure obligation to steer away from the eyes of law enforcement, and it was Razer that came in late after one race. One race and the man- no, he did not stomp his way in, he practically floated it, before he casually leaned against a locker. Slipping a cigarette behind his ear he met their shocked expressions with disgust.

That was when Shiv motioned to speak, most likely to ask Razer why he'd come. If he was staying. To show his appreciation somehow for the idol showing up. The man never got the chance.

Swatting him away as if Razer had never seen the man in his entire life, he spat, "If I had known the races were going to be this vile, I should have stayed home. I've seen toddlers drive their plastic tricycles with more ferocity than men that were previously under my liege."

If their faces hadn't been so chiseled with stone and murder, they probably would have blubbered into tears. The _great_ Razer had come all this way to be disappointed. Such a thing was a sin! A _taboo_ to them! And while some of their loyalty to Mizo was questionable, there was no doubt after that moment that the reason why they ever followed in the first place, was because they were seeking that beam of light that led them to glory.

Such an admirable racer, one she'd rather not compliment too long, even in her mind, would not resort to something so tactless, especially in something like a play of paper. No. Razer did not cheat. Whatever he'd done to achieve that luck, it was something the Crime Lord would never understand, but she _had_ to accept it.

A Royal Flush would decide her fate. Their fate. The fate of the franchise.

What probably frightened her the most was not that the franchise would sink in someone else's hands, but that small inkling of doubt buried deep within her. That inkling that whispered the words she wanted to ignore the most.

_Perhaps, he can run this business better than I can…_

Feeling her heart stop, Rayn lifted the cup of coffee to her mouth. She sipped without taking a breath until she felt like she'd pass out. No longer being able to face the racer, the woman continued to convince herself that the business would best survive under her guidance and hers alone and that the most this man would ask of her was a raise.

They were in silence. The waiter had already come by to drop off the pastries and Rayn Krew hadn't noticed until there was a distinct _clink_. When she snapped out of her daze, the racer had stopped stirring his drink and tapped his plate in serious meditation.

"It is considered rude to ignore a free meal, even if it _is_ only a pastry."

Out of character, even enough that she realized it _immediately_ afterwards, she apologized softly, "I'm sorry." Redeeming her pride, she cleared her throat and strengthened her tone. "I must need sleep."

To keep the retiree satisfied and in good spirits, the Crime Lord bit into the sweetly crusted pastry, only to find that a familiar and welcoming taste had greeted her.

Unintentionally, she whispered, "Chocolate."

Rayn bit back her delight. Razer had saved their dignity by focusing on the small windows across the restaurant. Since it was underground, only the feet of the morning rush hour commuters shuffled by the glass. Somehow, it was still a relaxing sight.

Replacing what had turned into awkward silence, Razer returned to his coffee. In an attempt to fill the empty atmosphere, he spoke to himself, even though Rayn had a feeling it was her cue to engage in conversation.

"Hmm. My coffee is better than this. The _nutella_, however, I haven't quite worked their mystery to that yet."

Too sluggish to care about formalities any longer, the woman accepted his intention to talk pointlessly about senseless subjects that did not affect their lives in any vital way whatsoever.

"Razer and chocolate? Now why can't I put that picture together?"

Taking a bite into his pastry, he teased, "Because you need sleep."

"Sleep has nothing to do with it. You're _suggesting_ that you can cook."

"I'm known to have a talent with knives."

"Ah, yes, I imagine that makes the dicing easier, although it makes me curious how successful the end result is."

He was becoming more and more like his usual self, except in a way that Rayn sensed was different from his customary arrogance.

Razer smirked, "Of course. Since convicts lack servants, we are forced to hunt small rodents the way our herds of metal heads taught us."

Repressing a laugh, the woman beamed with a lopsided grin. Staring across the table half lidded and barely able to decipher reality from dream, she nodded.

"I suppose you had to survive _somehow_."

That was when she realized what had been a tense early morning was suddenly flipping over into something more pleasant. Fighting the unrestricted smile over her- one that she probably never exposed since being in her position prevented her from having any companions of any sort, Rayn hummed. Her eyes trailed from his brilliant and handsome grin down to the tattooed arm that rested over the tabletop. His hand was large and rigid, but pinched the edge of his spoon delicately.

She wasn't sure if her exhaustion had finally set in and caused her to become delirious, but she was tired of holding it all in. One of the things she had found about herself when she was_ this_ sleepy was that she became more blunt. With actions and with words. Judging from Razer's reactions towards her, it seemed they shared a similar habit.

"My, my, you _are_ a difficult woman to impress."

"Were you _trying_ to impress me?"

"It should, since you have probably never touched a pot in your life."

Sincerely offended, she responded, "That's _not_ true. I am _very_ capable of cooking, thank you very much."

"We're all _capable_, Rayn. _Capable_ and _doing_ are two different things."

They paused, shielding their reserved grins behind their mugs. Beneath the table she could feel the point of his boot against the side of her foot. Although it was probably out of sheer coincidence, Rayn did not budge. Somehow she had nestled into this seat so comfortably, it was like waking up in the morning beneath warm sheets and not wanting to move in fear of the frigid air outside.

"Can't say I had much time to try anyway. I was either in a textbook or helping daddy stock weapons- whenever I saw him that is."

As she mumbled, this is where she expected most to give her _that _look. It was a look she'd been given so many times. The rich girl with a busy father no one had ever really seen, and instead of dolls, she was raised early with an interest in weapons- something even some of the crooks under her father's employment found unhealthy for a child. So she anticipated some pity, a shake of the head or an uncomfortable change of topic. That was how _most_ people dealt with it.

To her surprise, Razer had performed neither reaction. Razer was not like most people…

"Drawn in while you were young, hmm? The first time I actually shot a weapon at someone, I was twelve."

"Twelve? You handled a weapon before you handled a woman? Or did was that at ten?"

He corrected, "No, I _gambled_ at ten. Women- _that_ was at fifteen."

This time Krew couldn't help but give into the suggestive comeback teetering against the roof of her mouth.

"Gamble. Guns. _Then_ women? Your love making skills must be terrible then."

As the bold words caught in her throat, Rayn felt the flush heat her cheeks.

_Did I just say that? Rayn, what are you thinking?_

Seemingly the brain does not function well without proper rest…

Hearing the man huff, a strong wave of coffee and chocolate sifted beneath her nostrils. The odor coaxed her eyes to him like hypnotic lyrics hissed by the famed rock python, Kaa, himself. Seizing her attention, Razer defended his honor.

"Weapons and women are not that different, Miss Krew, but if you ever care to test that claim, you have my address."

The woman almost coughed up her entire serving of _expresso_!

Rayn violently squeezed the tablecloth in her lap, trying to restrain the embarrassed cough that fisted her chest in an effort to release. Inhaling deeply, she gathered her oxygen to reply as calmly as she could without turning blue.

"It's rather cold to compare women with mechanical devices of metal, don't you think?"

"Not at all. Not in this business…"

Rayn took his answer into deep consideration. Wiping a thumb over her chin as she sipped her coffee, she tilted her head.

"So, all the women in this business are corrupted, huh?"

The man chuckled, most likely amused that the Crime Lord was prying so freely into his personal affairs, and maybe more so that he was allowing it.

"We all are. To be involved in the world we're in, there are no angels. Just a matter of whose hands are blacker."

"Hmm. Interesting philosophy on life, Razer. Is that what's gotten you this far?"

He raised his mug in a mock toast, "Seems to have served me well until now."

The Krew Heiress caught his viridian eyes at that moment, carefully contemplating his words and comparing it to his expression. While it was true that she was raised halfway between the most polished and decadent private schools as well as the lowest, most violent bowels of Haven, despite her rough childhood, somewhere inside Rayn, she always believed that amongst all the rats, there were some good in them.

After all, even amongst murders, counterfeiters, and gamblers, some rules applied. The racer was correct in saying that it was a matter of whose hands were blacker, but it didn't mean that everyone _enjoyed_ living this way.

_She_ didn't always enjoy living this way, but she had no choice. This was what she was born into and without any other relatives to steer her down a different path, Rayn Krew would eternally be tied to the Underground and destined to pass it on to her future generations. It wasn't always fun playing politics amongst the rich and dirty in private school, and never knowing what it was like to have a _real_ friend- a girlfriend she could call up during her most dire times. Most of her tears she spent over her pillowcase, an ocean away from the only family she ever knew.

During her short and rare trips to Haven, her father was usually occupied, eager to show her how the business worked and forgetting that most little girls would have liked to have seen a toy store or visit a park rather than a weapon's factory hidden beneath the sewers.

Sometimes her father's men felt bad for her. During those long afternoons where she was commanded to sit obediently outside a meeting for hours on end, the same, burly, scar painted men that many people would immediately turn away from, would slip her a coloring book or a piece of candy. These moments were probably the only few things that gave the girl some hope- hope that there was a small chance of enjoying the unfortunate life she was granted.

Listening to Razer's theory ruffled something uncomfortable in her. She wondered if his life was similar to her own and perhaps, somewhere behind his arrogance and his murderous intent, was a man who still had a dream buried somewhere long forsaken.

Before she could meddle into Razer's life any further, Rayn scolded herself.

_This is no time to have a friendly chat with one of your employees and your former enemy. Not the right time at all._

There was still some business that needed tending to. With a winded huff, Rayn placed her empty mug on the table. As a bad aftertaste stained her tongue, she thought to herself bitterly, "Maybe he's right. We don't have the right to enjoy anything."

Sensing the change in the air, Razer had also become serious. The sun was already up so she imagined he was a little resentful about missing his goal to sleep while it was still dark out.

"Shall we talk business now, Krew?"

"I would be delighted. Chuffed as chips, actually."

Each of them leaned in, inches dissipating between the pair as they were about to exchange words that were not meant for public ears. Crossing his arms and savoring an unlit cigarette between his lips, Razer had returned to the man she had encountered in the bar earlier. Stern faced and not a drop of sugar in his tone.

"I'm going to be blunt then. I want half, Krew, although it was all originally supposed to be mine to begin with, as well as _extra_ compensation since I still had to be employed beneath the likes of the Krew family."

The ending of his statement stinging, the woman reverted as well, her fingernails preventing her from betraying her emotions.

"Is this how you charm a lady into a partnership? By implying that I should pay you for the mental trauma you endured from being forced to work for me? Truthfully, I've seen you drive off in your Luxord wearing some of your most expensive _Armani_. I didn't get the impression that you needed compensation for any misery."

"It's not compensation for misery. It's compensation for keeping the leash on the hounds and for dealing with receiving sums of my own money back in the form of a paycheck with _your_ emblem stamped across it."

Rayn scoffed, almost tempted to laugh at herself for questioning if there was any good in this man. The only good in him was that he was able to construct a well-frosted conversation to put her guard down before he placed her on the chopping block.

Blimey! She was _really_ enjoying that conversation a few minutes ago - their bickering about cooking and women, but now? Razer had sharpened his claws, bared his fangs and was trying to hover over her and swallow her whole.

There was no way in _hell _she was going to let him step all over her, no matter what card game he won, and no matter _how_ crafty he thought he was with words!

"The franchise is vital to this city, Razer. I don't think you can blame me for feeling insecure about sharing half of what I've worked my entire life for? How do I know that sprinkling that extra power over you will not lead to a _coup d'état_? How do I know you will not try to take it all some day?"

"I can only give you my word."

"Words aren't good enough in this business."

"If there was going to be a _coup d'état, _it would have happened already. Or are you still under the impression that these men sincerely follow you out of pure desire?"

Feeling her ears grow hot, she hissed, "I am aware of why _my_ men follow me, but that still doesn't prove that they won't feel a little too inspired if I hand you a crown out of nowhere."

"I want my half, _Rayn_," he chided while stressing her name, "You can handle your stocks and your papers, whatever makes your ears straighten. I just want command over the races, the drivers, and the profits."

"You can't-"

"I'm a simple man. It's either you agree or-"

"Or what? You're going to kill me right? Better sooner than later."

The woman slammed the table with her palms. Obviously irritated, Razer sat back, Rayn doing the same as they each harvested their senses. This was turning ugly. She was sure that neither of them wanted it to get to this point. They were both tired and eager to return to their beds. But they refused to sweep this one under the carpet, not until it was discussed in detail.

Razer would not sleep a wink until he received his winnings. Rayn would not give in feeling short changed.

Equally frustrated, the retiree pinched the bridge between his eyes, and exhaled.

"Look. Krew. You should be flabbergasted about this, prancing around this restaurant like a young fawn. Less work for you and more sleep at night."

"Yeah well- well I don't _trust_ you, Razer. Not. At_._ _All_!"

"You should have thought about that before you sat your affluent skirt into that chair and wanted to play a man's game. Shiv told you, didn't he? We do not play for kicks."

_Great! Now he's scolding me like a child. Of course I knew it wasn't for kicks- or did I? It doesn't matter! I just didn't think- didn't think that you would_-

Becoming overwhelmed, it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a straight face. Desperate for a stroll, Rayn snatched her purse. Before she could jerk her chair out from beneath the table, a hand reached out for hers and stopped her dead in her tracks. Shocked and along the brink of outrage, Rayn felt his fingers soften- soften the way they had when she'd watched him pinch that sugar spoon earlier.

Feeling her muscles tense, the Krew Heiress looked away, willingly hearing him out.

"Tell me where we are, Rayn."

Quirking a brow, she wasn't sure what he was asking. Blinking, she replied insecurely, "A restaurant?"

"Right and wrong. Do you know why this restaurant is in a basement?"

Rayn shrugged, "It's original?"

All humor wiped from his expression, Razer kept his hold firm on her wrist.

"This restaurant is owned by the Accardo family- a small crime syndicate popular for their chain of restaurants and cafés in Kras."

Whispering, the woman asked, "So why should I care about a bite sized crime organization when I own the entire feast?"

Tapping an inquiring finger over her knuckle, his tone lowered, "This is where you are wrong, Krew. It's the ones you don't notice that you should make it your priority to know the most about."

"Is that why you brought me here, Razer? So that you can give me a history lesson? And here I thought you were being generous with the breakfast treat."

The racer expected her venom. Understanding that there was no breaking a brick wall with words, the man unfurled his fingers from her wrist. He motioned to retrieve his lighter from his coat pocket as he listened to the woman shuffle for her things.

"Now, if you'll _excuse_ me for a moment."

"I will be waiting. There is only one exit in this restaurant by the way, unless you have an uncanny talent to squeeze into one of those two foot windows without your hips getting lodged into the corners."

Cringing, she spat as she swiveled towards the restrooms, "I'm not _trying_ to escape, you- _Oooh_! I'm going to freshen up."

The black haired man locked his eyes to her shoulder blades as she stormed off, purse and coat in hand. Watching her click her heels across the tiles until she vanished beneath an arched corner, the man fingered the dry stick of nicotine in his mouth.

Sighing, he admitted, "No, Rayn. I brought you here because I rather like this place, hmm, hmm..."

His mood gone to hell, the man raised a hand for the check, but not before helping himself to the small chocolate mints in the center of another fresh table.

* * *

As Rayn slammed into the restroom, her eyes were shunned with sunlight. Despite the tiny windows, the owners successfully designed the place so that being underground was not a disadvantage. Grinding her bangs from her eyes, she stopped in front of a framed and richly embroidered mirror only to find herself smacked wide in utter shock.

_I look horrendous!_

Like a beast confronted with its own image, Rayn avoided her face, digging into her purse as she hurried to reach for her powder. Not only was her hair a tangled cobalt mess stirred about her skull, but her forehead was gleaming beneath the sun and her lips were a pale and cracked maroon. She could not have imagined what the man was thinking as he sat across from such a terrible looking woman. Her makeup had long run dry and yet, perhaps with the combination of that brew from the bar and the adrenaline after that card game, Rayn still fluttered around confident as ever.

Confident when she looked like a corpse!

Blotting the oil on her face away, Rayn mentally shifted through everything that had happened within the past six hours or so. Somehow, she had thrown herself into this chaotic predicament, and while she had to confess, that game of poker was probably the most fun she had in ages, now she was being faced with the decision of a partnership.

A partnership with the retired racer as well as Mizo's former right hand man, Razer.

While Razer's track records brought ideas of abundant profits to mind, his history with the underground did not exactly make him the poster boy for trust. Krew and Mizo had been at each other's throats for decades. Kras and Haven were not known for dealing business on friendly terms. The two organizations prospered and dealt with one another because they needed to, but now that the tides had changed, the strong were crowding in to bite the heads from the weak.

Mizo was gone, but his residue still remained. Residue in the form of many men and hidden gangs that even Rayn was still unaware of. Amongst that residue, there was Razer, a man who sought his own benefit over others.

It was rumored that he'd run into a pit of lions with a steak if commanded by the boss, and yet, at the same time, Razer was the kind of man who ripped the hand that fed him if he were fed too rudely. She imagined his relationship with Mizo wasn't always a smooth one, a mixture between hatred, obligation and a shared goal to flourish. If not for common interest, maybe in another world, another lifetime, the famed racer would have been on the opposite end from the Mizo family- perhaps alongside Krew as long as the orbs were right.

With a huff, the Crime Lord found her cheeks hot, even after she had managed to cover the shine in her cheeks. Applying a fresh layer of lip-gloss, the woman found her irritation with business wilting as other worries came to surface.

_I really do look terrible, so why was he so-_

He showed no sign of it - of disgust, of disapproval; he hadn't even taken the opportunity to slight her about it. Instead, he smiled, teased, and his foot lightly grazed hers, amid their amiable wrangling. Rather than drawing away from the woman who so flirtatiously leaned towards him as they chatted, the racer welcomed the gesture and followed its every whim.

She wondered if it was all just a tactic, a tactic to get her mood right before he'd tore her life away. At this point, she wasn't sure anymore. By the rims under her eyes, it was evident that she really needed rest. It was hard to maul over such an imperative agreement when she couldn't even keep her eyes open.

"All right, Rayn," she comforted herself, "This will only last as long as you drag it on. Time to be a big girl and give the man back what he rightfully owns. Or well, _half_ of it anyway."

Smacking her cheeks, her breath hooked when she caught a whiff of spice over her wrist. The warmth of his palm over her hand was still there, causing the woman's shoulders to shudder before she shooed it away.

"I'm thinking too much. I'm thinking too much."

She continued to chant this mantra as she went into one of the stalls in hopes of convincing herself. Even so, behind her repetitive words, she knew there was no denying it.

She _wanted_ that man- and it had _nothing_ to do with a business partnership…

* * *

When Rayn had left the restroom, her eyes darted around the restaurant before realizing that her table was being cleared. Razer was nowhere in sight.

Feeling something heavy in her chest, the woman clutched at her collar.

_Perhaps, he went out for a smoke. Can't say I blame him…_

Refreshed and determined, the woman ran her fingers through her hair and made her way towards the exit. It wasn't until an obnoxious and alarming voice called from behind that she felt her fingers go numb.

"_È stato amore a prima vista!_ And the most beautiful woman I have ever seen was leaving my life through the door!"

Rayn tried to ignore it, clutching her coat before the careless waiter from her table had blocked her path.

Plainly, he instructed, "We're closing for a bit while we prepare for the morning rush. Please step this way."

There was no other choice but to obey. Blindly, she was guided to another exit - one that Razer had informed her earlier that didn't "exist." As she listened to a thick steel door close behind her, she had realized two sets of steps followed. She'd been sandwiched into a shadowed alleyway. It must have been where the restaurant dumped their trash on the side of the building.

The Crime Lord's demand did not waver.

"What do _you_ want?"

When she turned, she was confronted with two men she had never encountered before. They were both dressed in expensive but wrinkled suits. They appeared to be a part of this Accardo Syndicate Razer was speaking of. One was losing his dark hair and the fairly tall one was a blonde, his hair greased back revealing a small tattoo down his temple. The flaxen haired man seemed to be the one who had spoken to her inside.

Rubbing the stubble along his jaw, he circled her, stopping on her left to block her window of escape. By the suspiciously handsome grin revealing itself, she knew that this was a recipe for disaster.

_Someone_ was going to get hurt tonight.

Rayn felt panic begin to swell inside her and fingered the cold metal pistol she had in her purse.

If _someone_ was going to get hurt, it sure as bloody hell wasn't going to be her!

"Aww, _bagascia_, let me introduce myself, will you? After all, it's not everyday you get to meet the great Krew Heiress, face to face and unguarded."

Sensing that his clever monicker towards her was insulting judging by the sneer across his friend's face, Rayn's eyes narrowed viciously.

"Well, get to it."

Impressed, the man whistled. "Ay, _amore mio_, you are stealing my heart. If I had any idea you were this feisty, I would think of taking you for myself."

Unlocking the safety to her hidden pistol, she sung, "No chance in hell."

The dark haired crook motioned to move, but his suave companion stepped forward instead.

"She's got a hot mouth on her, Romeo, I don't think we should let that slide."

Shaking his head, the man answered, "Relax. All in good time. Besides, I'm having fun."

Taking her hand into his own as he sarcastically pressed a kiss to her knuckles, he looked up to her large amber eyes, "Nice to meet you, _Bella_. My name is Romeo as my acquaintance here has so _impatiently_ pointed out. His name is Ulisse."

"How quaint," Rayn remarked, "Seems the shoe fits just right."

Rayn slid her hand away with disgust, wiping the tingle of his presence off her knuckles against her skirt. Watching her reaction, Romeo grinned.

"I will take that as a compliment, Miss Krew. Now, please tell us. What brings you to our humble establishment at such an early hour, hmm?"

"I heard the _nutella_ here was impeccable."

Romeo cackled, clutching his stomach as he arched backwards.

"Is that so?"

"What other reason is there?"

This was when she must have said something that struck a wrong chord. The humor from the man's face vanished and in the blink of an eye, he stomped towards her.

"You tell me! I find it hard to believe that the Crime Lord responsible for taking down the notorious _Mizo_ would come by an Accardo property with no other intention but to try the pastries!"

That was when she heard a distinct _click_. Ulisse must have unarmed the safety on his own weapon before Rayn slid her gun from her bag without hesitation. Shoving the gun into Romeo's gut, she looked up, hissing directly beneath his chin.

Her eyes were fearless even though her knees threatened to collapse beneath her.

"It's such a shame, Romeo. The breakfast here was so _fulfilling_ but the boys in charge of customer service are a bit too _cheeky_ for my tastes."

The blonde was about to counter with something smart when a chime rung through the air and a trail of light flickered past their heads. The small knife lodged into the brick wall behind a shaking Ulisse, the man's hand trembling as he looked for the source of the dangerous object.

"It really _is_ a shame. The _nutella_ here is _delicious_."

Romeo turned halfway to realize that another gun had been whipped out. Now there he was, trapped in a four-way stand off. Ulisse with a gun to Krew's back, her gun to Romeo's gut, her dog's gun to his temple and the dog's knife aimed for Ulisse.

It was only a matter of reflexes, the wrong twitch of a finger and this would transform into a blood fest confettied across alleyway walls.

Surrendering, Romeo raised his hands, "Well if it isn't the _great_ Razer. What brings you to grace us with your presence? I was under the impression that you had already paid your check."

"Hmm, hmm, and leave without my date? That would be impolite of me. Just look at her."

He did and Rayn flashed a devious grin.

"Yes. She is _very_ charming."

Razer sighed, "I just went out for a smoke. Nicotine is a hard habit to crack."

"But your vehicle-"

"I parked elsewhere to avoid the morning rush. I'm not _always_ a fan of crowds."

The killer aura around them intensified, Rayn buffing her finger against the trigger and ready to pull at will. As Romeo's shoulders dropped, the Accardo goon granted Rayn another one of his smooth smirks.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, _Bella_. I apologize on behalf of the Accardo family if we have offended you."

"But Romeo-"

Ulisse attempted to protest, but was refused by his partner. Looking down for approval by the woman he was previously threatening, the female Crime Lord nodded smugly.

"Apology accepted. And the pleasure was all mine."

* * *

"I thought you said there was only one exit!"

"Apparently not."

"I could have been killed back there!"

"Courtesy of a Crime Lord who skips outside to play without her bodyguards. I think I deserve a raise for that."

"A raise? But that's part of your job description."

"Not anymore. _Partner._"

Razer leaned against his Luxord's door, arms crossed and a wild state of satisfaction plastered over him. The two Accardo fools had scrambled inside after that incident in the alleyway, Razer keeping his gun handy as he led her back into the streets. After turning a corner, they stopped in front of his car, the man releasing a territorial hand from her shoulder.

"You came to rescue me because of the profit I owe you, didn't you?"

"Hmm, rescue? If I remember correctly, you were not exactly helpless and unarmed, Rayn."

"So, then what was it? If not the profit, if not the job description, what drives a cold man such as yourself to whisk into an alleyway and point a gun for a boss who they serve from being forced to?"

Razer paused, tending to the stray hair over his eyes as he arched a brow at the woman before him. He had to admit, in all his days, he had never dealt with such a daring and cunning woman. She kept his fists tightened, out of anger and at times, out of something else. Resisting an itch in his palms, the man exhaled easily.

"I wanted to buy another pastry."

Krew whipped her head back in laughter, wiping the sleep-induced tears with her fingertips.

"I give up, Razer. I'm too worn out to fight back."

The man gave her a look of bewilderment before she clarified.

"If it's all right with you, I'd like to write up the contract tomorrow evening. I think it would be best if we wrote it in the presence of our lawyers and with our full, and alert attention."

This was it. She was sealing the deal.

"How do I know that you are not lying?"

Smiling, she sung sweetly, "You just have to take my _word_."

The man scrutinized her suspiciously, but just as she had anticipated, he accepted the agreement.

"Your word it is, Krew. Your word it is."

Rayn did not move, standing in front of him and yanking her coat around her shoulders. It seemed there was nothing left to say and with the business arrangements already taken care of, it was about time they had each returned to their homes. Honestly, even with the sun burning her eyes, a part of her didn't want such an eventful day to end, even if she _did_ pass out.

A string of words slipped into her mind from earlier.

_To be involved in the world we're in, there are no angels. Just a matter of whose hands are blacker._

Razer was the first to move, about to open the door for her so that he could drive her home. It wasn't until his shoulders were met with gentle friction that the retired racer stopped and eased back against the Luxord.

Rayn straddled herself between his legs, gripping his shoulders and eager to spend the lust that had been bottled up inside for far too long. Finding herself in a swathe of his thick arms, the woman faltered for a moment before she cursed.

"Oh, bloody Nora! You know what? I don't care anymore."

The Crime Lord captured his lips into her own, lazily falling into him as he supported her weight against the car. The man exhaled deeply, expressing his own contentment with the mild vibration from his mouth when a hoarse sound grated from his throat. As she intertwined with the racer, she could feel a shrill tingle run up her spine, every time his fingers passed along its ridges. Curling her toes to get the blood running back in her, Rayn purred pensively, smothered with the odor of spice, smoke and the subtle hint of chocolate mint along his tongue.

It was an odd combination, but one that she instantly felt attached to. She would want to experience this again sometime in the future.

When they parted, their mouths peeling from their bonds of desire, Rayn released a winded breath as if some weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Leaning her head against his chin, it wasn't until he whispered that she found the energy to pull back and look up.

"_Mein schatzlein_."

Confused, she blinked, "What's that? Another dessert?"

Razer chuckled, "You were curious about my native tongue, weren't you?"

Sucking in a breath of jovial excitement, Rayn's eyes glimmered, "So, _that_ is what you sound like! What does it mean?"

Razer didn't answer. Instead, he nudged her chin with a knuckle before he led them away from the Luxord. Yawning, he changed the subject.

"My, my, the sun's already up. Looks like we should head back."

The woman continued to pester him, her eyes shaped like teary almonds even as he slammed her door shut and settled into the driver's seat. The engine rumbled, and the racer continued to ignore her.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"All the secrets about your racers were only if _you_ won. You didn't win the game, remember?"

Pouting, the Crime Lord accepted his stubbornness. The Luxord droned and before she had realized it, they were already driving down the street, the wind chopping against her cheeks. Feeling gravity pull her, Rayn was too weak to resist the ten tons strapped to her side.

She was tired- so very-

Razer stopped at a red light. Looking to the person in his passenger seat, an expression of disapproval swept over him. She'd fallen asleep and had forgotten to strap her seat belt. Meanwhile, she was in the vehicle of a wanted criminal who could be chased for his life at any given moment.

"How careless of someone who prides herself on running this city," Razer thought, but he didn't seem to mind it as much as he would have if it were hours ago.

Watching as the light was about to change and adjusting himself to accommodate the delicate head of his new partner against his shoulder, Razer gestured for her arm. The man locked her arm securely beneath his.

"I don't want you flying out of my car before we write up that contract."

Even in deep sleep, Rayn did not object. As her arm was placed beneath his, she unconsciously wrapped around him, shifting into a blissful dream that curled her lips into a smile. Easing on the gas as he drove onward, Razer whispered one last thing before he continued in pleasurable silence.

"You're right, Rayn. A cold, lifeless weapon could not be compared to a woman such as yourself…"

* * *

**Okay before I ramble, time for a language lesson!**

**British Slang:**

Weapon – A really fast car

Skins – Leather seats

Filth – Traffic police

Make like Shepherds – Get the flock out of here

Bloody Nora – Wow

Chippie – Restaurant

Blinking – F'N (lol you know)

Bloody – Same as above

Clot – Idiot

Cheeky - Rude

Smashing - Great

Fuzz - Cops

Chuffed as Chips – Excited? Got that from Animal Crossing from the Owl in the museum! HAH!

I assume we know what Blimey and Savvy is bc we watch Jack Sparrow muahaha!

**Italian:**

Ristretto – a stronger brew of Expresso often drunk in Italy

Cappucino – same as above but steamed with mostly milk

Nutella – a chocolate pastry often eaten for breakfast in Italy

Armani – a nice, expensive name brand none of us can ever afford. I know it shouldn't be in the Jak universe but I ran out of bright ideas. Hey, I was learning new languages here!

È stato amore a prima vista! – It was love at first sight

Bagascia – slut, harlot

Amore mio – my love

Bella – beautiful

Romeo and Ulisse are Italian names as well as Accardo. Got Accardo from some blog about real Chicago mafias…scary. O_o

**German:**

**EDIT:** Mein schatzlein used to be Mein Geliebter (which I thought was my love but actually means more like my lover) and Memnon0288 helped me out with the correction. Kudos to him! It means "My little treasure" now. Dawww.

**French: **

Coup de tat – for ppl who have never heard of this, basically a rebellion within a government or group, so like, a group turning on their leader.

**Okay, now, note to self. Do not eat dinner and drink while reading over Luv2Game's beta. Her comments will make you choke and die with laughter- or choke and die bc I was eating. But nonetheless, your beta is always entertaining! Especially with the hips comment and when you said, "Bc she doesn't look like she's dead anymore!" Thanks and hugs!**

**Blackfire18, yes, the chocolate is your fault from Eight Cylinders. Damn it, now I believe the bloodthirsty murderer to have a chocolate addiction! I hope you enjoyed this and it tied some loose ends and all the curiosity I left you with from the first chapter. And I used some of that automobile slang you sent me. Came in handy. **

**Hopefully this will get your gears turning to write more. And then I have to write more. And then it will be a RazerxRayn fest! Onward with the love!**

**PS: Isn't it great that they finally removed that stupid Gefahr last name from Razer in the drop down menu? Awesome! Now to get Keira's "H" removed… What the heck does that stand for, anyway?**


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